Detachment
by Marvin is my Muse
Summary: Dean gets injured on a solo hunt after Sam leaves for college. Angst ensues. Major HurtDean!
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Detachment Chapter One  
**Fandom:** Supernatural  
**Characters:** Dean, John, Caleb, Pastor Jim, mentions of Sam  
**Spoilers:** Nothing too blatant but most probably some mild spoilers.  
**Disclaimer:** I wish. I don't own anything that pretty and broken.  
**Summary:** Dean gets injured on a solo hunt after Sam leaves for college. Angst ensues. Major HurtDean!

**Author's Note: I've been sitting on this story for a while now and it is already finished, but not typed (yes I do write them on paper first) hides face so the chapters shouldn't be too long in coming. ** -

Dean stood before the trunk of the Impala frowning. He was about to head into the woods surrounding SmallPath, Minnesota. He had been at Pastor Jim's place with his Dad waiting to meet up with Caleb for another hunt when he had caught wind of some, possibly supernatural, activity down here. He had come to check it out while his Dad and Caleb went after a particularly nasty demon Caleb had found.

Dean opened the trunk, lifted the false bottom and surveyed his array of weaponry. There was something about this hunt that bothered him. He had talked to the locals, looked at the newspaper archives and scoped out the woods. Those who encountered the possible victim of his next hunt described a large dark dog-like creature. The strange thing was that it hadn't attacked anyone only growled at them from afar. Dean had been ready to write this one off as some feral dog when it changed its M.O. last night. The thing when after a little girl, and ripped her to pieces.

Dean had seen her in town and seeing her…remains at the morgue had hit him hard. He didn't yet know what the creature was but he suspected a werewolf was the culprit. He knew he was being foolhardy, going after the thing without knowing what it was, but he had to do something. The little girl… he remembered seeing her in the park…

…_Dean was sitting on a park bench thinking over the last conversation he had had. He could hear kids laughing in the field behind him and felt a small tap on his foot. He looked down and saw the bright red ball the kids had been playing with had rolled away from them. He bent to pick it up looking up when a little girl bounced over. He smiled at her and handed the ball over. She smiled back him, her smile full of childish innocence._

"_Thanks Mister!" She beamed. Dean grinned and watched as she skipped back to her friends… _

He had to do something before more kids go hurt. He could almost hear Sam reaming him out.

"_What is it with you and kids man? I mean, the minute a hunt involves kids, its like you become obsessed with finding the thing. Well, more obsessed."_

Dean grimaced, Sam was right, kids were his Achilles heel in hunting, well kids and Sammy but those two were probably related. Surveying his weapons once again, he grabbed a riffle, loaded it with silver bullets and slung it over his shoulder. To that he added a pistol he tucked into his pants at the small of his back and several silver daggers hidden in easy-to-reach places. Lastly, he strapped a machete on his back, making sure he could reach it easily.

Feeling as prepared as he could be, Dean slipped on his jacket and closed the trunk. Steeling himself, he headed into the silent forest.

After an hour of hiking, he reached the clearing where the thing had been spotted before. Looking around he crouched behind a rock and settled down to wait.

Two hours later Dean hadn't moved and was beginning wonder if the thing would show before he turned to stone when all hell broke loose.

He heard it before he saw it, crackling in the underbrush, slinking through the trails, it crept into the clearing. Dean slowly raised his rifle and set his sights on the thing's heart. The darkness prevented him from seeing it clearly but he could make out its general shape. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, a set of claws raked his back, digging in deep and ripping across, leaving trails of liquid fire.

He stifled a cry as he was flung into the rock he'd been crouched behind and dimly heard his rifle go off. He looked up in time to see another creature advancing on him he cursed as he dove away, scrambling behind a tree – and coming face to face with a third creature.

Grabbing his pistol, he brought it up in one swift movement and fired four rounds point blank into the thing's chest. Without glancing at it, he dove away, once more scrambling for cover. He glanced back into the clearing as he came up behind the other two_ things. _Pistol in one hand, dagger in the other, he slid between the two, burying the dagger hilt deep in one's chest as he fired off three rounds into the second.

Turning, he found himself hurtling through the air. He smashed into a tree and the edges of his vision began to blur. As he struggled to remain conscious, he heard on the things plod over to him. Dean looked up and saw his dagger emerging from its chest, dark liquid oozing on to the forest floor. Okay, he thought, apparently daggers don't work. As the thing raised a massive paw, claws unsheathed, Dean struggled to raise his own arm. It brought its paw down onto his chest and he heard several somethings crack before he felt the agony of those claws ripping down, across his chest.

As the thing raised up once more, preparing to deliver the fatal blow, Dean thought of Sam. Sammy who had left him and his dad to pursue the life he had always wanted. Sam who in that one action, had made his heart burst with pride and break with despair. Sam who would blame himself for his brother's death for the rest of his life. He couldn't do that to Sam, to his dad, he had to live through this. So, with his family's faces in his mind's eye, he gathered al his remaining strength, raised his arm, and emptied the clip into the things unprotected chest.

It was thrown backwards with the force of the bullets and let out a mournful cry before it lay still. Silence fell over the forest once more and in the clearing he could see the other two things he had killed. Dean slowly hauled himself up dreading the task he now faced, salting and burning the bones.

He focused on his job and pushed his pain to the back of his mind, forcing himself over to the three things he had killed. He dragged all three bodies over to the fire circle he had prepared earlier and burned them. The flames rose, consuming the bodies of the still-unknown creatures. Dean stared at the smouldering corpses and gathered moisture in his mouth. "Rot in hell you sons of bitches" he slurred as he spat onto the pile of ashes. Glancing at the remains once more, he turned and began the slow, arduous walk back to the car. He staggered back through the woods, trying to stay on the path and cursing the effects the bloodloss was having on him. As stumbled once again, he focused on one thing, he had to get to Blue Earth, he had to get to his dad. He repeated the thought in his head like a mantra, propelling him forward.

_Get to Dad, he can help, Get to Dad, he can help, Get to Dad, he can help, Get to Dad, he can help, Get to Dad…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Detachment Chapter Two  
**Fandom:** Supernatural  
**Characters:** Dean, John, Caleb, Pastor Jim, mentions of Sam  
**Spoilers:** Nothing too blatant but most probably some mild spoilers.  
**Disclaimer:** I wish. I don't own anything that pretty and broken.  
**Summary:** Dean gets injured on a solo hunt after Sam leaves for college. Angst ensues. Major HurtDean!

**Author's Note: Hey Everyone! I would thank you all individually for reviewing but there were so many of you! I'm sorry that I couldn't respond to all of you but you know who you are so thanks for all your kind (and unkind) words! They were much appreciated and you inspired me to take this story farther then I was originally going to! Sorry I'm updating today when I told most of you I would be updating yesterday but, as I've told some of you, life got in the way damn life! hehe. Anyway, I'm just rambling now so… on to the fic! **

**-Marvin**

When Dean stumbled up to the car an hour later, he let out a sob of relief. "Hey Baby" he murmured, sliding into the front seat. Glancing at his cell, Dean was tempted to call his dad to come and get him. He snorted. Right, 'cause John Winchester was always the one you wanted around when you felt like shit.

For the second time that night, Dean's thoughts turned to Sam. His baby brother had been gone for almost two years now and, unbeknownst to their father, had remained in contact with Dean since he had left his brother at the bus station.

Dean sighed heavily, they hadn't spoken since last week and Sam usually called weekly meaning he was going to be calling soon. Dean could never hide anything from his brother and Sam was going to be pissed if he found out about tonight's hunt. Turning back towards the road, Dean started the car and pulled out of the clearing deciding to face that problem when it came.

Dean had been driving for about two hours when he first began to swerve slightly. Cursing the effects of blood loss, he strained to focus on the road in front of him. He continued towards Blue Earth, fighting the urge to pass out. About fifteen minutes later, he jumped when his cell rang. Groping blindly, he flipped the phone open and held it to his ear.

"Yeah?" God, did his voice actually sound like that?

"Dean?" It was Sam, oh shit. He had thought he would have more time.

"Heya Sammy! What's up?" Dean tried to keep his voice from slurring.

"Dean" Sam sounded worried "Are you okay?"

"Sure I am Sam" he snorted at the unintentional rhyme, yeah, he was fucked up alright.

"Dean are you drunk? I thought you were on a hunt with Dad and Caleb."

"Dude!" he said indignantly, "I'm not drunk."

"Dean…" Sam sounded even more worried now, great.

"Sam I'm fine, just peachy." At Sam's intake of breath, he knew he'd said the wrong thing. Shit. Stupid blood loss.

"Dean what happened? Are you hurt? Where are you? Where's Dad and Caleb?" Sam's barrage of questions hit him like a hammer, crashing into his already aching head.

"Chill Sam, I'm fine, just got a few scratches from this last hunt."

"Dean, where's Dad?"

"Dad's not here."

"And you were just hunting?"

"Yeah"

"Dad let you go on a hunt alone?" Dean sighed, he would hang up but the conversation with his brother was actually keeping him alert.

"_Yes_. Sam, Dad let me hunt alone, now what do you want? How are your classes?" Ha! That should get him, when asked, Sam could talk about his classes for ever.

"My classes are fine, what were you hunting? Did you kill it?." But apparently not today.

"I killed the suckers Sam." He thought about the little girl, " they aren't going to be breathing air anytime in the next millennia."

"What were you hunting?"

He had to phrase this carefully now so Sam wouldn't flip.

"I…uh…don't know."

There was a pause.

"You don't know?" The confusion in Sam's voice made him wince, he knew what was coming and tried to head it off at the pass.

"Sam…"

"Don't 'Sam' me!" his brother interrupted,

"Are you telling me you have no idea what you just hunted!?" Dean winced at Sam's shouts.

"Tone it down okay Sammy."

"Dean?" Sam was worried again, "Are you okay?"

Dean sighed, he really wanted to say no, just say no and tell Sam that he hurt, that he was tired, that he just wanted to lie down and sleep. But Sam was his little brother and it was his job to keep him safe and even if Sam was miles away right now and all he could do right now was keep him from worrying, then he would do it no matter the cost.

"Yeah Sam I'm fine, just tired." Dean noticed the sign for Blue Earth coming up.

"Look, can I call you back? I'm coming up to Pastor Jim's place." There was a pause from Sam.

"Pastor Jim's?"

"Yeah."

"Dude, it's like three in the morning there!"

"See ya Sam."

"Dean…"Sam paused, obviously recognizing defeat.

"Okay Dean, just…call me when you get there okay?" Dean frowned, with the injuries he had, he wasn't going to be calling Sam any time soon.

"Dude why? You worried about me?" Maybe mocking would work.  
Sam snorted.

"Right, just worried your going to fall asleep and run off the road and then Dad will kill you."

"Dude, you really think I'm going to run _my car_ off the road!?"

"Just call me okay Dean?"

"Got it Sammy."

"Bye Dean"

"See ya Sammy"

Sam hung up the phone slowly. He knew Dean wasn't telling him everything. Since when did Dean go after something when he didn't know what it was? It was something their dad would skin him for and Dean never crossed dad. Well, Dean rarely crossed dad.

Sam sat on his bed thinking hard. Dean was never reckless on a hunt unless…that was it, there had to be kids involved. Sam knew his brother, Dean wouldn't endanger himself if there dad was counting on him so there was only one explanation, there was a kid somewhere in the picture. Sam sighed, kids were his brother's weakness, hunts where kids died were always the worst for all of them but they seemed to really sucker punch Dean.

Laying down, Sam thought it over, Dean had gone after something without knowing what it was, that was bad enough, but he still didn't know what it was and he had apparently killed the _things_. Meaning there was more than one. And, Sam thought wryly, lets not forget that Dean sounded like he'd been run down by a semi. Something was wrong, he could feel it.

A thousand miles away Dean closed his phone and tossed it onto the seat beside him. He concentrated once more on the road as he cruised through the town and up to Jim's house.

He pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, sitting in the car and trying to muster up the strength to get up and walk up to the house.

He finally hauled himself out of the car and staggered up the driveway, one hand on his side. He stumbled up the porch stairs and steadied himself against Jim's reading chair.

Dean fell against the door frame, his dying strength draining quickly, and leaned on the bell. He waited, knowing that the others were probably all asleep but that he wouldn't have to wait long.

Sure enough, within two minutes, he heard the deadbolt on the door being slid backwards. He struggled to right himself, keeping one hand on the doorframe as a familiar face swam into his line of sight.

"Hey Caleb," he slurred "how'd the hunt go?"

As an explanation, Sam is twenty two and Dean twenty six in the pilot so Sam had to have been in college for four years yet Dean says "You know in almost two years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing." so the timing doesn't match up. Now, it could just be some mistake but it sent my brain off ficcing so there you go. I just figured that Dean wouldn't stop talking to Sam just because John and Sam had a falling out. Also, there was the "If I'd have called, would you have picked up?" comment. I may do something with that later on. Anyway, I'm just rambling now, I should have the next chapter up soon!

-Marvin


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Detachment Chapter Three  
**Fandom:** Supernatural  
**Characters:** Dean, John, Caleb, Pastor Jim, mentions of Sam  
**Spoilers:** Nothing too blatant but most probably some mild spoilers.  
**Disclaimer:** I wish. I don't own anything that pretty and broken.  
**Summary:** Dean gets injured on a solo hunt two years after Sam leaves for college. Angst ensues. Major HurtDean!

_Dean fell against the door frame, his dying strength draining quickly, and leaned on the bell. He waited, knowing that the others were probably all asleep but that he wouldn't have to wait long. Sure enough, within two minutes, he heard the deadbolt on the door being slid backwards. He struggled to right himself, keeping one hand on the doorframe as a familiar face swam into his line of sight. _

"_Hey Caleb," he slurred "how'd the hunt go?"_

"Son of a bitch Dean! What the hell happened to you?" Caleb reached out a hand to steady the younger hunter and gently pulled him inside, taking in his torn and bloody clothes in a glance.

"Was hunting" was his weak response. Dean found himself steered to the couch in Jim's living room and gently pushed down. He groaned as his injuries alerted him about their existence.

"Just hold on okay Dean?" The older hunter asked worriedly.

"Yeah"

Dean leaned back against the couch cushions, his hand hugging his chest protectively as he sighed. He made it. His dad was here. It would be okay now. Dimly in the distance, he heard Caleb shouting for John and Jim. Then he was being shaken, painfully.

"Wha'?" he opened his eyes.

Caleb was kneeling in front of him, "Come on Dean, don't fall asleep on me now" he grabbed a sheet from the pile of laundry in the corner and spread it over the couch Dean was slouched on and tried to help him ease onto the cushions.

"No" Dean muttered weakly, he was wary of uncurling from his protective position, suspecting that it would bring more pain.

"'m fine"

John and Pastor Jim chose this moment to enter the room, both looking tousled but awake. Jim took one look at Dean and left the room again. John meanwhile was at Dean's side in moments.

"Dean what the hell?" he muttered, "What happened?"

John ran his eyes over his son, not liking what he saw. Dean was covered in blood and hugging his ribs and chest. He turned to Caleb,

"We need to get a look at his injuries" Caleb nodded, used to the drill. John turned back to his son.

"Dean," his tone was as stern as he could make it, "you need to tell us what happened." He reached forward, steadying his son as Caleb eased Dean's shredded jacket off of his shoulders. Jim returned with the supplies they would need and handed Caleb a pair of scissors. Just as Caleb began to cut through the hem of Dean's ragged shirt, his son spoke, momentarily drawing all three of their gazes to his face.

"…were three…of …them." He managed to get out as Caleb went back to cutting away the black rags. John's gaze remained focussed on his son's face.

"Three of what Dean?" he prompted gently when Dean didn't continue.

"dunno" Dean took another shallow breath, "thought might be…black dog…or were…wolf…" he trailed off again going paler when Caleb's hand passed over his ribs, searching for breaks and cracks.

"Sorry Ace" Caleb muttered continuing to run his hand over Dean's tortured skin. Dean shook his head.

"s'okay…"

"Dean," John said gently, "what happened son?" Dean turned back towards John as Jim helped Caleb with removing Dean's layers of clothes.

"Big…things…attacked…me" he muttered "I thought…thought…" he trailed off again and winced as Jim prodded the torn skin on his torso.

"What did you think Dean?" John could see Dean fighting to stay awake and knew he had to keep his son conscious no matter what it was costing the both of them.

"…thought…there was…only…one" was his quiet response. John frowned, Dean didn't go into anything without proper information. It just wasn't like him.

"Why'd you go after it if you didn't know enough Dean?" John's fear for his son turned to anger, frustration and worry. "I thought I taught you better than that! Always be prepared Dean, always know what your facing!" Jim rested his hand on John's shoulder.

"John" he said quietly "know is not the time" John sighed, as usual, the elderly pastor was right, he glanced at Dean and instantly felt the guilt hit again. Dean's eyes were deep green pools of hurt and sorrow.

"I'm sorry Dean" he muttered. Dean shook his head.

"Your…right…dad…but…it killed…it killed…" If John didn't know better, he would say there were tears in his son's eyes. No, not possible. After all Winchesters were good at nothing if not denial.

"Who did it kill Dean?"

"Lucy Stevenson" the name was said brokenly in a grief-filled voice he'd rarely heard from his eldest. Dean's tortured gaze turned to him again, his pain was purely emotional.

"she…she…was…only six…dad…" And John understood. A kid, a little girl. Dean's weakness, his Achilles Heel, well other than Sam. John winced. Evidently the killing of this little girl had stuck a chord in his son, Dean rarely let himself be affected by hunts.

No, John corrected, Dean rarely let his father see that he'd been affected by a hunt.

"Okay Dean," John soothed, Caleb and Jim had managed to rid Dean of his shirts and they needed to get a look at Dean's chest, it seemed to be the worst part right now.

"I want you to lie down now son" Dean started to protest again.

"'t's okay," he muttered softly, "'m fine." The three men traded looks.

"he certainly inherited the Winchester stubbornness." Jim commented quietly. John glared at him,

"Not the time Jim" he turned back to Dean. He really hated himself for this but…

"Lie down Dean" he spoke in his marine voice, the voice he used all too often on his sons, the voice that had probably been key in driving Sammy away. Dean, ever the obedient soldier, responded instinctually to that voice, stretching out on the sheet and moving his hands away from his ribs. John swore softly as he caught his first proper sight of his son's battered chest. If Dean hadn't burned the bodies of the creatures already, he would've brought them back just to kill them for the damage they'd done to his boy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Detachment Chapter Four  
**Fandom:** Supernatural  
**Characters:** Dean, John, Caleb, Pastor Jim, mentions of Sam  
**Spoilers:** Nothing too blatant but most probably some mild spoilers.  
**Disclaimer:** I wish. I don't own anything that pretty and broken.  
**Summary:** Dean gets injured on a solo hunt two years after Sam leaves for college. Angst ensues. Major HurtDean!

_John swore softly as he caught his first proper sight of his son's battered chest. If Dean hadn't burned the bodies of the creatures already, he would've brought them back just to kill them for the damage they'd done to his boy._

Dean had large claw marks running from his right shoulder to his left hip, bruises mottling his torso and what looked like a dislocated shoulder as well as several broken or cracked ribs.

"Holy fuck Dean!" John muttered, turning his son gently and examining the gouges and bruises adorning his back as well.

"How'd you get all these bruises?" John had a pretty good idea of how but he needed to keep Dean talking. Dean glanced up at him.

"Was… thrown… into ….a …tree." John cursed again.

"You hit your head?" he asked distractedly, checking the severity of the gashes.

Dean stared at him. "was…thrown…into…a …tree" he repeated slowly "I hit…every…thing" John's cursing seemed to never end. _Great_ he thought _now we could be dealing with a concussion._ He moved over to Dean's head.

"What's my name Dean?" Dean had had many concussions over the years and knew the drill better than he would have liked.

"John…Winchester"

"Where are you?"

"Pastor…Jim's…Dad?"

"Yeah Dean?"

"Where's… Sammy…he…okay?" Dean asked closing his eyes. John froze as Caleb started running his fingertips over Dean's head, looking for an injury.

"Caleb...man…" Dean's voice seemed to be getting weaker. "You…know…I…don't…swing…that…way" Caleb grinned at him.

"No worries Dean," he reassured, "I'm a ladies man myself." Caleb frowned as he brought his hand away, blood glistening on his fingertips. Jim turned Dean's head gently to inspect the wound.

"Definitely going to need stitches John," John turned at grabbed the suture kit, handing it to Jim. Jim readied three needles and handed one to each of them. Dean watched them tiredly. John turned towards him.

"Hey Dean, were going to give you the good stuff okay?"

Dean frowned as he caught sight of Caleb filling a syringe. "Don't…need…to…dad…I'll...be…okay" John sighed

"Dean, you have claw marks on your chest and back, a concussion, a dislocated shoulder, several broken ribs and bruises. It's okay to get some pain meds." He rested his hand on Dean's shoulder "Just take them, okay Dean?" Dean looked up at him and John saw pain in his son's eyes, pain and exhaustion and maybe some relief. John smiled gently.

"It's okay Dean, It's okay." Dean held his gaze a moment longer before slowly nodding. John glanced at Caleb and Caleb slipped the syringe into Dean's arm. Dean grabbed onto John's shirt, clutching it tightly in his hand. John startled.

"Dean, what is it?" Dean's grip tightened as he fought the sedation. "Dad…you…have…to…have…to…" Dean's voice began to fade as he shook John's shirt weakly, desperately trying to get him to understand. John was beginning to worry.

"What do I have to do Dean? What is it?" Dean's eyes started to close but his grip remained firm.

"Call… Sammy…dad….please….please…just…call…" Dean's voice faded away as he finally succumbed to the sedation. John sat back, sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face. Jim and Caleb exchanged glances both choosing, for the moment, to leave him to his thoughts as they both moved towards Dean and started to stitch him up. John looked up briefly.

"Did he say call Sam?" he asked his friends, "He couldn't have been thinking clearly"

Jim and Caleb continued their work, sowing up his broken son.

"You should call Sam John," Jim commented gently, "you know Dean wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

John frowned, dismissing the subject. "We're going to need to wrap his ribs."

He moved forward, gathering the supplies he needed and approached his wounded son.

A/N: Hey everyone!!! Thanks so much for all your reviews! I've tried to respond to all of your wonderful comments but I apologize if I missed some of you. Sorry that this chapter is shorter but I'll try and post again soon!


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Detachment Chapter Five  
**Fandom:** Supernatural  
**Characters:** Dean, John, Caleb, Pastor Jim, mentions of Sam  
**Spoilers:** Nothing too blatant but most probably some mild spoilers.  
**Disclaimer:** I wish. I don't own anything that pretty and broken.  
**Summary:** Dean gets injured on a solo hunt two years after Sam leaves for college. Angst ensues. Major HurtDean!

"_Did he say call Sam?" he asked his friends, "He couldn't have been thinking clearly"_

_Jim and Caleb continued their work, sowing up his broken son. _

"_You should call Sam John," Jim commented gently, "you know Dean wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."_

_John frowned, dismissing the subject. "We're going to need to wrap his ribs." _

_He moved forward, gathering the supplies he needed and approached his wounded son. _

An hour later saw John sitting at Dean's side, staring at his son's cell phone. Dean lay in one of Jim's many spare rooms, having been stitched, bandaged and cared for to the best of their abilities and John sat with him, watching him for any signs of infection. He scrolled through Dean's contact list, bypassing the seemingly endless list of girl's names until he found SAM. His thumb hovered over the call button as Dean's desperate words came back to him

"_Call… Sammy…dad….please….please…just…call…" _

He had never heard his son sound so desperate, fearful and broken at the same time. John knew his son, Dean had gone silent after Sam left, internalizing his pain and dealing with it before rejoining the interacting world as his old self. John had been relieved and had taken Dean's return to normal as a gift. He knew deep down that Dean wasn't okay, he had practically raised Sam, yet he had followed Dean's example and never spoke of the youngest Winchester. '_Call Sammy' _Why would Dean want him to call Sammy? He had been hurt worse than this before and he had never wanted his brother informed. It didn't make sense. John fingered the cell phone again, should he call, take that first step and reach out to his alienated son? He worried about Sam every day, had ever since he'd handed the boy to his brother with the instructions to "_Take your brother outside and run! Go Dean go!" _but now his little boy was a man, a man who had gotten into one of the most prestigious universities on a full ride. He had been so proud and afraid when Sam had told him about Standford. Of course, his fear had won out and manifested itself as anger. John cursed, why was this so hard, all he had to do was press the little green button, tell Sam what had happened and that his brother had asked for him to call him. Why the hell did Dean have to ask him to do this anyway!? Didn't he know what it would be like for his father? John leaned back heavily, the answer was yes, Dean did know. Dean knew and yet he'd still asked him to do it. Clearly there was more going on here than he was privy to. John looked at his sleeping son once again, Dean's face, so carefully guarded and masked during his waking hours, showed the vulnerability and sadness he refused to let it at any other time. John sighed, Dean had asked, no begged, him to do this, Dean, who never made such requests, had asked him to do this. His thumb hovered over the button again. No, he couldn't do it, not even for Dean. God, what kind of a father was he?

Downstairs Caleb and Jim sat in Jim's kitchen nursing Irish coffee's and trying to recover from the nights' events. Caleb was the one to finally break the contemplative silence.

"D'you think he's gonna do it Jim? Do you think John'll call Sam?"

Jim sighed deeply, "I don't know Caleb, but, for Dean's sake, I hope he does."

Caleb nodded and they fell back into silence, both hoping John would be able to do the right thing for his son. They both looked up when John came in, their gazes questioning, wondering, hoping. John walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself some of Jim's strong brew.

"How's Dean?" Jim asked gently

"He's fine. Sleeping now." Was his friend's curt answer

John sat down heavily at the scrubbed wooden table. He took a deep gulp of the rich drink before turning to Jim once again.

"Jim, I need you to call Sam for me." Jim and Caleb stared at him.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Dean wants Sam called." John took another drink.

"John" Jim said gently, "Dean asked _you_ to call Sam."

John stared at the pockmarked table, he felt himself slipping, ever since Dean had shown up at the door, bruised, bleeding and broken, his emotions had been jumping all over the place. It was too much.

"I can't Jim." He whispered "I just can't."

Jim nodded at him. "Okay John, you want me to do it now?"

John sighed "Yeah I guess, thanks Jim."

Jim crossed the kitchen to the living room, going to his phone. He flipped through his phone book, finding Sam's number and dialing it. It rang four times before he got an answer.

"Pastor Jim?" Sam's voice sounded worried and desperate, "What's wrong? How's Dean? Is he there? Is he hurt?"

"Sam, calm down," the pastor's deep voice silenced Sam, "Your brother is here, he came in a few hours ago and he asked that we call you." He left out the specifics of who Dean made the request to, figuring it for unimportant. Sam was silent.

"Dean's there?"

"Yes"

"And he asked that you call me?"

"Yes"

"Why isn't he calling me himself?"

Jim took a deep breath, this was going to be tricky, "Sam" he took a deep breath, "Your brother was on a hunt earlier, he's been injured pretty seriously but he should be fine."

Sam was silent for a minute, "Dean's been hurt?"

"Yes"

"How bad?"

Jim took another breath "Sam, maybe I shouldn't…"

"Jim" Sam sounded scarily like John at the moment "Tell me how my brother is. Please" It was that plaintive pleading note in Sam's voice, that tone that was so _Sam_ that persuaded Jim.

"He didn't know what he was fighting but it was obviously some sort of corporeal creature of some kind. He has some pretty deep claw marks across his chest and back, a mild concussion, several broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and some pretty severe bruises."

"Is he is okay" Sam sounded like he was five again, asking Jim when his daddy would come home.

"We've patched him up Sam he'll be fine." _As long as he doesn't get an infection, a pierced lung or fall into a coma _he added mentally, figuring Sam didn't really need to hear it at the moment. Or ever.

Sam was silent again. "Dean called me earlier, he was driving over to your place and he sounded pretty bad. I asked him to call me when he got there. He didn't tell dad to call me did he?" Jim ran a hand over his face, he knew he had to tread carefully "Dean's pretty badly injured Sam, he was pretty quiet, I don't think your father heard him." Sam sounded relieved, "Okay, good. That's good." He paused, "Jim, I have to go now but can you call me if anything changes? Anything at all? Please?" Jim smiled gently

"Of course Sam, I can do that."

"Thanks Jim"

"Good night Sam. Take care."

"I will, watch out for Dean okay?"

"Of course."

The dial tone sounded in Jim's ear and he slowly replaced the receiver. He felt bad for lying to Sam but he needed to focus on school and he knew Dean would never forgive him for making Sam worry about him. He sighed again, these Winchesters, he loved them to death but they had so many problems…

He turned from the phone and joined John and Caleb in the kitchen once more.

A/N: Hey everyone!!! I am so sorry for the delay! I went on a school trip to Europe for 9 days and I had planned to update before I went but my teachers loaded us down with homework so I couldn't. Thanks for remaining patient with me! Once again, I'm so sorry! I do have a beta now but she was too busy to beta this chapter. Hopefully the next one will be beta'd.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: So here it is! Finally! Chapter Six of Detachment! Sorry for the long wait everyone! A few things though, before the story. I want to thank Letting the rain in, happycabbage75 and especially heather03nmg, you guys have stuck with me and really inspired me to continue, without you there probably wouldn't be a chapter six! Thanks! And before you read the story, I apologize for the long note, I want to dedicate this story to my 5-day-old baby sister Cecilia Marie. This one's for you beautiful girl! And now onto the story!

"_The dial tone sounded in Jim's ear and he slowly replaced the receiver. He felt bad for lying to Sam but he needed to focus on school and he knew Dean would never forgive him for making Sam worry about him. He sighed again, these Winchesters, he loved them to death but they had so many problems…_

_He turned from the phone and joined John and Caleb in the kitchen once more. "_

Caleb sat, reading over some obits as he watched Dean sleep fitfully. The young man's slumber had been fitful for the past hour and a half. Caleb had seen the lines of pain appear on Dean's face and he wondered at the amount of pain the younger hunter was in as he turned back to his search. A while later he looked up again when Dean started to mutter and toss his head, clearly agitated.

"It's okay Dean," he soothed, "your safe now."

Caleb had helped raise John's boys, had first met them when John came to him for munitions his eyes filled with grief and pain and determination, his arms filled with a baby Sam, and a silent Dean attached to his leg.

After that first meeting, hearing the purr of the Impala, seeing John's ragged figure at the door and having the Winchester boys stay with him seemed to become a regular occurrence.

He had watched the boys grow up, had fixed their skinned knees from stumbles on the playground, gone to get them when John was laid up, let Dean borrow his car for his dates and even pulled them from the jaws of Child Services by claiming himself as their uncle.

Hell, he'd been named their uncle by a four year old Sammy. Honorary uncle. Which was ten times better really, you had to earn that title. And he'd definitely earned it.

He'd sat with John on many late nights, drinking and reminiscing and _being. _John needed that sometimes, to just _be. _ Caleb helped him with that, helped show him his sons, distract him from his quest for vengeance even as it distracted him from his boys.

Sometimes.

It never lasted very long though and Dean always bore the brunt of John's distraction.

Dean who had been father, brother, friend, everything to Sam. Who had never had a father to help him along in life, only "uncles" like Caleb.

Dean who had to watch the boy he dedicated his life to protecting become a man and leave him. Dean who had to suffer with John, the-man-who-feels-nothing. Who had become more and more reckless and selfless on hunts since Sam had left. Who was now suffering in front of him, beat to hell.

Caleb sighed. Seeing his "nephew" like this was tearing him apart. Dean was close to breaking, both emotionally and physically and he wouldn't accept anyone's help and it would be a cold day in hell before John would order him to. Stubborn bastard.

Caleb was pulled from his musings when Dean's agitation grew, his muttering increasing in volume, the tossing and turning getting more desperate.

"little girl...dead...sorry...smile...park...morgue...sorry...my fault…all my fault...sorry"

Caleb's heat sank. Dean carried so much guilt and pain and responsibility already, he was like Atlas holding up the world. But Dean was human, sooner or later those shoulders would fail and everything would come tumbling down, including Dean.

Dean shifted again, getting increasingly agitated.

"Calm down Dean." Caleb muttered, trying to soothe the fevered hunter. "Take it easy bud."

When Dean didn't respond to him he grew worried and tried harder to rouse the injured man. Taking his temperature, Caleb swore, 102.1. Beyond one man's help, he needed reinforcements. He went into the hall, banging on Jim and John's door before returning to Dean's bed. As the seasoned hunters came in to the room Caleb filled them in.

"Dean's got a fever of 102.1, pretty sure it's an infection." The simultaneous curse from John and Jim might have been humorous at another time.

Jim took the lead, "John, we're going to need to check his wound, Caleb try and wake him up."

Caleb grasped Dean's shoulders and gently shook him. "Dean, come on Dean, you have to wake up." The younger man stirred slightly, his eyes showing slits of glassy green.

As Dean blinked, trying to focus on Caleb, John held him down gently and Jim peeled back the bandage on his chest. Dean stared at him, obviously not all there.

"Don't hurt her...just a little...girl...save her...save...her...save...Sam...Sammy..."

Dean began to shift again, getting increasingly agitated. "Dean" Caleb pitched his voice low, adding the rumble of command to it. It was a dirty trick but it worked, Dean stilled and went silent.

"Sammy?"

Caleb's stomach twisted at the desperate need in John's son's voice.

"No Dean," he said gently. "It's Caleb. You've been hurt bad Dean but we need you to focus okay? Can you focus for us?" Dean gazed at him, obviously confused.

"Caleb?"

"Yeah Dean, it's me. We need you to focus okay? Can you do that?" he repeated.

"Focus...right...okay..." Caleb grinned down at him. "Your doing great Dean."

He glanced at Dean's chest, wincing when he saw the inflamed skin around the stitched wounds. Infection. Shit. Jim left quickly muttering about antibiotics. Caleb placed his hands more firmly on Dean as John prepared to clean out his wounds again. "Dean" he turned Dean's head towards him. "Dean your guts have gotten infected, we need to clean them out okay?"

Dean half-smiled tiredly. "Never...do anything...half-assed...eh...Caleb?" Caleb laughed, "You sure don't Dean."

At John's nod, Caleb gripped Dean's shoulders tightly, being careful of the other injuries Dean sported. Jim came back in with holy water and as John it and peroxide over his son's stitches, Dean trembled and shook in Caleb's grasp. Recognizing that Dean wasn't going to be moving much, he made his touch more gentle as he murmured to the white faced young man. When Jim shifted the stitches to allow the cleansing fluids to better enter the wound, Dean jerked in pain, barely containing a whimper. Suddenly remembering a conversation with Dean in the past, Caleb was hit with an idea.

SPNSPNSPN 

Pain. He was in pain, full of pain, hell he _was _pain.

It encompassed him completely. Dean focused his entire being on not moving, on remaining still even as the pain his father and Jim were causing was telling him to shift, buck, turn, to MOVE. To move away from the pain, from the gentle hands holding him down, from the gentle words being murmured at him.

He was undeserving of gentleness, a little girl was dead because he wasn't fast enough. So he kept still, endured the pain, tried to embrace it.

He could see her now, running, laughing, playing, carefree and innocent. As her smiling face swam in front of him, bolts of pain shot through him once again, shattering her image and throwing him back into the arms of chaos.

He struggled to remain silent, to hide the pain but a whimper managed to wiggle it's way away from his control. He found himself drowning, unable to take the pain but then he a soft humming reached him through the pain.

A familiar tune.

The fog surrounding him cleared slightly, allowing him to catch his breath. As the humming repeated itself in his head, his mind filling in the words, he felt his breathing slow, his heartbeat calm slightly and some of the pain melt away. He focused on the music and let the darkness the pain had been keeping at bay envelop him.

SPNSPNSPN

Caleb continued to hum softly John and Jim working to the tune normally heard blasting from the Impala. Caleb watched as Dean's tremors calmed and he faded into oblivion. As Dean's body stilled, they all breathed a sigh of relief. John and Jim finished up quickly, bandaging the younger hunter's slashes and cleaning up.

Caleb watched Dean's face and remembered the conversation he had with Dean one night after a few too many beers.

Dean had told him once that when John and Sam would fight he always stayed in case things got out of hand but, to protect himself from the barbs they threw at each other he would " jus' pl'y a sn'g 'n m'head, dr'wns th'm out some."

Metallica also seemed to help Dean drown out physical pain, would wonders never cease. 

A\N Thanks again to everyone who's stuck with the story! Hopefully the next chapter will be up faster than this one!

-Marvin


	7. A Note to All Readers

THIS IS NOT A NEW CHAPTER OF _DETACHMENT_!

I've been trying to come up with anything except posting a new chapter to tell people this since I hate thinking there's another chapter up and being disappointed but I couldn't figure out another way.

I'm going to be taking _Detachment_ down next week.

To all of you have been reading from the beginning – I'm sure this isn't news. All the same, I apologize to my readers. It was your reviews that convinced me that I really have to post this as a courtesy for those of you who have been following this fic.

I started _Detachment _in high school after marathoning Supernatural Season 1 and part of 2 to get caught up. I thought I had a brilliant idea for a story and that I could run with it.

It's now three years later (and three years since my last update) and I don't think it's fair to continue to leave the story up.

I really did like the idea I had and I may someday revisit it. Be warned, if I do come back to _Detachment _I will most likely completely rewrite what I have so far. My writing style has changed and (I would hope) improved, I now have a different; more complete idea of the characters and their histories and cannon has given me so much more to work with. Just reading the story now makes me shudder!

So, thank you dear readers for sticking with me, I'm sorry I couldn't tough it out.

Hopefully I'll be able to keep writing this year and I hope you enjoy my future stories.

Thanks for all your kind words and encouragement,

Special thanks to all those who have stuck with the story – especially happycabbage75.

You guys have been awesome,

-Marvin


End file.
